


don't go where i can't follow

by illea



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Coffee Shops, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Post-Endgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2020-01-01 07:01:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18330980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illea/pseuds/illea
Summary: Tony can't shake the memory of losing his friends, even after defeating Thanos and bringing them back. After six months of grieving for people who are still alive, he calls the only person who can help.





	don't go where i can't follow

Tony stared at the napkin that sat in shreds on the table in front of him. He distinctly remembered it being whole just a few minutes ago. Now it was torn into tiny pieces, one of which he worried between his calloused fingers. 

_Five minutes._ He took a deep breath, watching the rain patter against the window. The coffee shop was warm, the murmur of conversation filling the space around him. He tried to eavesdrop to distract from his racing thoughts, but he couldn’t focus. 

There was nothing to be nervous about, he reminded himself. It was just Steve. It would be like meeting an old friend—hell, it _was_ meeting an old friend. And there was a chance he wouldn’t even show up. The rain was pouring down, and traffic had to be a mess. He would understand if Steve didn’t show up. He would.

There was a knock on the window and Tony just made out Steve’s face behind the mosaic of raindrops. He waved, peeking out from beneath the hood of his jacket, and walked towards the door without waiting for a response.

Three minutes early. Of course he was. Being on time was considerate, and Steve was nothing if not considerate.

The door jingled as Steve ducked inside, immediately shoving his hood down. He seemed softer around the edges than Tony remembered. His shoulders were as broad as ever under a maroon sweater, but his posture seemed more relaxed.

Tony’s mouth went dry and he quickly shoved the pieces of torn napkin off the table, hoping Steve hadn’t seen. They fluttered onto the leather seat and Tony made a mental note to clean them up later.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Steve said, sliding into the opposite side of the booth. “I didn’t think you would show up.”

“Thanks for knocking,” Tony replied. “The ten seconds between the window and the door would’ve been an unbearable wait.”

Steve’s mouth quirked up on one side, but he didn’t quite smile.

“I see you haven’t changed a bit.”

Tony’s skin prickled with annoyance and he reminded himself to breathe. He knew Steve meant well. The discomfort must’ve shown on his face, because Steve paused while taking off his jacket.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know.”

Steve picked up a napkin and began to tear at the edges. Something warm flared in Tony’s stomach. He had thought that six months apart would quell whatever it was inside of him that responded to Steve like this, but it rose up just as strongly now. What had been the point of disappearing if he hadn’t changed at all?

Steve tore the napkin into even strips, staring at his fingers as they worked. Every now and then he would glance up at Tony, but he didn’t say anything. He was leaving it up to him to fill the silence. If only he knew what to say.

Ever since they had gone back in time and defeated Thanos before he could decimate everyone, Tony couldn’t fend off a feeling of constant panic. His mind was funny that way. As long as there was a problem to solve, he could escape his feelings. Once things had gotten too quiet, his thoughts had gotten too loud.

The grief of losing the people he loved haunted him. It didn’t matter that they were alive again—just seeing them put his nerves on edge, like he would wake up one day and they would all be gone.

“Why did you ask me to come?” Steve asked. His patience must be wearing thin. Tony remembered all of the times he had made Steve wait for things just to watch him break. This wasn’t like that—six months apart had taken their toll. 

“How are the others?” Tony asked eventually. Steve shook his head.

“Is that really what you asked me here to talk about?” 

Tony swallowed his frustration. Steve had always challenged him, and he had always challenged him right back. That’s how they worked. Sarcastic responses simmered beneath his skin, but he kept them in check.

“No.”

Steve’s reached a hand across the table. His fingers landed lightly on Tony’s clasped hands. 

“I know this must be tough for you,” he said gently. “I honestly thought I would get here and you would be nowhere to be found.”

“I thought the same thing about you,” Tony replied, looking up at Steve. His eyes softened. 

“I’ll always show up for you,” he said quietly. “You know that.”

Tony withdrew his hands from beneath Steve’s and shoved them under the table. He willed his face not to flush. Tony had known that letting himself be vulnerable would make this harder, but blushing wasn’t something he’d been prepared for.

“I’m going to get something to drink,” Steve said, breaking the tension. “You want anything?”

“I don’t drink coffee anymore,” Tony replied. “Makes me too anxious.”

Steve let out a low whistle. “Now that’s a word I’ve never heard you use.”

“You’re an asshole, you know that?”

Steve laughed. “Seems to be easier for you to speak to me that way.”

He went up to the counter, smiling easily at the barista while she made his drink. He returned to the table with two steaming mugs, an index finger looped through each.

“Peppermint tea,” he said, placing them gently on the table. “It’s supposed to be good at calming nerves.”

“What makes you think I’m nervous?” Tony asked. “You’re the one ripping up napkins.”

Steve snorted. “As if I didn’t see you shove yours off the table the second I walked in.”

Tony ducked his head, hiding a smile. He kind of liked that Steve had noticed, even if it was embarrassing.

Steve picked up his mug and blew gently, the surface of the tea rippling like waves. He took a gentle sip and put it back down, a drop running down the side. It pooled on top of the table.

“How are you doing?” Steve asked. “Honestly.”

“I’m okay,” Tony replied. “I get up in the morning.”

“And think about what happened?”

“Don’t we all?” Tony asked. “It stays with you, losing everyone like that. Even though they’re back, it’s hard not to think they might disappear.”

“You can’t think like that,” Steve replied. “I’m not going to lie to you, we could all die at any minute. That’s the kind of world we’re living in. But what good does it do if you’re constantly waiting for that to happen?”

“Do you know what I remember?” Tony asked. “More than anything?”

Steve shook his head.

“There was a night with all of us, in the kitchen, just after I’d landed back on Earth. You were talking through the moment it happened—the snap, when everyone turned to dust. Trying to break it apart, figure out what happened so you could fix it. And I just remember thinking: I have no right to be here.”

“What?” Steve asked. His eyebrows knit together in a concerned expression. Tony swallowed around the knot in his throat.

“I lost people too. The journey back from space—I’ve never been more scared in my life. I didn’t know what had happened, if you were still alive—” His voice broke, but he continued.

“When I got back and found out that Thanos had won, it was devastating. But I wasn’t there when it happened. I’ll never know what that was like.”

“Is that why you left?” Steve asked. “After we’d gone back and saved everyone—is that why you didn’t stay?”

Tony nodded.

“I needed to grieve, and I had no right to do it with the rest of you. I was gone when it mattered most.”

“That wasn’t your fault—” Steve interrupted, but Tony held a hand up to stop him.

“I’ll never forgive myself for how things happened,” he whispered. “But I needed to grieve just like everyone else. I deserved that. Right?”

Steve’s eyes were wet. A low ache burned in Tony’s chest, and he rubbed it absentmindedly. 

“Do you know what I was thinking?” Steve asked, his voice tight. “When the snap happened?”

Tony didn’t answer.

“All I could think was, ‘Please, don’t let it be Tony. As long as he’s alive, it’ll be okay.’”

Tony shook his head. “It’s my fault Thanos got the Time Stone in the first place. If I hadn’t gotten hurt—"

“I’m not talking about that,” Steve said, frustrated. “I wasn’t thinking about the world or anyone else. I was thinking about you. You’re all that mattered to me, and that’s a hell of a lot less noble than whatever saviour mission you were on.” 

The quiet swell of the coffee shop grew louder as Steve fell into silence. Tony could hear his pulse rushing in his ears.

“I get that you need to grieve,” Steve whispered. “Just let me be with you while you do it.”

Slowly, Tony pulled his hand out from under the table and laid it in front of Steve, palm up. The past six months had been hell, but he was different now. Not a lot, but enough. Enough that he knew it was okay to need someone.

Steve carefully placed his hand in Tony’s, letting his thumb rest against the inside of his wrist. He brushed it across his skin once, twice, and Tony felt something spark inside of him, more alive than he’d been in months.

**Author's Note:**

> After today's trailer, I couldn't resist writing some soft Steve/Tony. It's my first venture into the Marvel universe, but I have a feeling I'll be back. Thank you for reading!


End file.
